


Over His Head

by twistmyleg



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, M/M, Tressa is doing her best, Violence, hug Alfyn for trying, hug Therion too, let's just get in a big circle and hug them all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-19 14:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistmyleg/pseuds/twistmyleg
Summary: Alfyn loves being able to help others with their issues. It builds the positive emotions within him. Even if they are refusant of help. Of course, when it comes down to the issue at hand, the kind-hearted apothecary's reaction may vary to numerous extents.Extents that go beyond his normal kind-hearted self.*Spoilers for Therion's Chapter 3, some of his Chapter 2, and Olberic's Chapter 3*





	Over His Head

**Author's Note:**

> I write tragedies and sad things, not comedies. Is that sad? Probably, but oh well. 
> 
> Here some more doses of sadness and Tressa being Tressa! Enjoy!

"Hoo! That was quite the sweat we worked up! How are you feeling, Alf? Want me to carry that giant satchel of yours? You did a lot of the fighting on the way there.” Alfyn shook his head and gave a smile to the optimistic merchant at his side.

“I’m alright, Tress. I’d be more concerned ‘bout you. Took a mighty blow from one of them lizardmen, if I recall.” Tressa inspected herself from head to toe in her quirky manner, spinning in circles and kicking up golden sand behind them. When she finished, her lips were implanted in a wide smile. ****  
** **

“However mighty, it was not enough to stop the incredible Tressa! And that was the hardest set of enemies that we’ve had to face yet!” Her arms swung in punching motions, displaying her awesome source of power. “Nothing can stop me! Even if we get to Grandport and there’s some awful person there trying to mess up the Merchant’s Fair, me and my spear will bring justice upon them!” Her laughter was contagious as it spread through Alfyn’s being and filled him with joy.  ****  
** **

“But don’t forget we’re still going with ya, Tress. One merchant can stop a lizardman, but another person is a whole different game.” She nodded, bringing her punching motions to a stop and glancing ahead. Her dainty finger pointed to the sandstone buildings in the distance, notifying them of their return to Wellspring after a long and confrontational day.  ****  
** **

“Yay! We’re almost back! That’s good, because I’m sure I’ve ruined this dress with sweat from this sweltering sun! Phili won’t be happy with the laundry this week, I’m sure.” ****  
** **

“Why don’t you check on her, Tress? See how her bandage’s holdin’ up? It would help me a great ton.” Tressa nodded, falling behind him to make conversation with the cleric a few paces behind. Alfyn exhaled with content and began to increase his pace toward the front of their group. He had worried that Tressa would be too inexperienced to fight off the potent enemies in their path. But, as she had shown, it was nothing to worry about. It gave Alfyn relief to hear that his friend was doing so well. He hoped that the rest of his rounds would go just as wonderfully ****  
** **

Alfyn caught up to Olberic, who walked with a different sense of pride than he had when they entered the sands at dawn. “How you holdin’ up? Especially after that duel with Erhardt?” Olberic gave him a warm smile and nodded. Alfyn made note that the poultice on his leg would need replacement upon their return to the inn. ****  
** **

“I’m doing alright, thank you for asking. A great weight has been lifted from my heart for the first time in eight years.” Alfyn placed a hand on his shoulder. It was the kind of muscle that Alfyn hoped he could one day attain to protect the ones he cared about as well. ****  
** **

“Glad you were finally able to speak face-to-face with ’im. I think you two came to an understandin’ between each other that will last ya a lifetime now.” Olberic nodded. The resolve in his eyes had returned since they had gone missing during the tournament in Victor’s Hollow.  ****  
** **

“I am as well. I understand finally where he came from in doing his actions.” He gazed into the distance as the sandstone buildings became more evident. Guardsmen stood at the gates to the city awaiting their arrival, per Captain Bale’s orders. “That does not mean my journey is complete, however. I’ve one more challenge to face. And I will need to be much more prepared than I am now in order to rise to it.”  ****  
** **

“You know we’ll help ya out. Me and my trusty axe are always here for a sparin’ match.” He chuckled. “If ya wanna make Tressa more confident in herself, ya could take ‘er up in a match. She believes she’s invincible after fightin’ the giant lizard.” Olberic returned his own chuckle as they passed by the guardsmen. Each male gave a wave as they entered. Alfyn’s heart soared seeing the guards exhale with relief; two began to shout in celebration of their victory. 

“That does not surprise me. She held herself well in today’s match. She’s come a long way since her early days in Rippletide, for sure. I might have to take her up on it. Her tactics are eccentric yet useful in combat. Anything I can garner would be useful against Werner. And of course, I’ll take you up on your offer too. You swung that axe with such stride today.” Alfyn glanced at his side. His axe swung beside him for as long as he could remember. He treasured it as much as his concoctions.

“I only learned from the best in our lil’ village. Needed to wield it if ya wanted to go explorin’ round those parts. Lil’ buggers and frogs could always sneak up on ya.” As the group approached the inn, Alfyn was surprised to see Primrose leaning against the wall outside of the door. Her arms were crossed in a frustrated manner and her eyes scanning her surroundings. Her posture relaxed upon seeing the four return. A smile crept upon her face.

“I presume we were successful today?” Olberic nodded.

“Yes. I have accomplished what I needed to do here.” Primrose glanced briefly at their weapons. The light reflected off of each of them.

“And no one was killed? I’m impressed. I thought we were here to kill that man for what he did to Hornburg. Unless Alfyn convinced you otherwise, of course.” Her eyebrows raised at Alfyn knowingly. He shook his head bashfully.

“You know I would’ve if it came time, Prim. But Olberic and Erhardt came to an agreement that they were both happy with.” His smile dissipated slightly as he took note of their surroundings as well. “What’s got ya outside the inn? Thought you and H’aanit were plannin’ on spending some time to yerselves inside? It’s mighty warm t’be standin’ out here, anyhow.” Primrose nodded, her smile fading.

“We got some time to ourselves, yes. It’s Therion. He left this morning stating he had better things to do than be with us in the inn. Cyrus tried to convince him to help in his research, but you know Therion can’t be bothered. Anyway, he has not returned yet. I’ve been trying to watch for him while H’aanit rests with Linde.” Tressa and Ophilia appeared at Alfyn’s side; Tressa with her trademark pucker in dissent and Ophilia’s eyebrows creasing with natural worry.

“I hope he has not gotten himself into too much trouble…” Ophilia commented. Tressa rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“He’s always getting into trouble. It’s in his thieving nature. I’m sure he’s just trying to find a way to get some free goodies from the vast amounts of markets here.” Her eyebrows lifted and a gasp came through her lips. “Of course! He’s trying to beat me at my own game! How rude of him!” Alfyn waved his hand.

“I don’t think so, Tress. And I’m sure he’s fine, Phili. He can take care of himself.” He glanced back at Primrose. “I know a place I can check. He’s likely at the tavern by this hour, maybe a mug or two down.” Primrose slowly nodded.

“Maybe you’re right. Still worth a check, however. I know Cyrus headed down there earlier for his own mug. Perhaps you can join him?” Alfyn gave his signature smile in response.

“You know I wouldn’t pass up a mug for the world. I’ll be back in before ya know I’m even gone!” Alfyn waved behind to his friends as he took to the streets of Wellspring once more. Countless booths lined with different knickknacks and exotic items adorned each corner and alleyway. With all of the unique herbs for medication lined up at a specific booth, Alfyn was tempted to throw as many leaves as he had at all of them. The amount of help they could provide to everyone! Unfortunately, the group attempted to maintain their budget, set by Tressa and Therion accordingly. Most of their spare allowance went to nights at the tavern for a good mug.

Alfyn entered the tavern and was immediately surprised to find Cyrus by the doorway. His gaze was narrowed at the bartender and the local customer he was speaking to. Alfyn recognized the customer immediately by the scarf around his neck and purple clothing he stuck to. As Alfyn was about to stride over and strike up friendly conversation with him, he felt a hand pull him close to the wall and a hush come from Cyrus’ lips. “Don’t approach him. Just watch with me for a moment, will you?” Alfyn only nodded and observed the scene with Cyrus.

The bartender appeared flustered with his customer, explaining that the item he was seeking was not on their menu. The customer -- persistent as he was with anything involving him -- pressed him further, stating that he ordered it specifically. At once, the bartender’s eyebrows raised in understanding and he rushed to get the item. Alfyn frowned. He was about to open his mouth to express his concern, but Cyrus held a hand up to silence him. The bartender returned with a glass of an exotic substance, but the customer seemed to have no taste for the actual beverage. He retrieved a piece of paper from under the glass and placed it in his pocket. Adjusting his scarf, the customer hastily exited the tavern. It was only then that Cyrus lowered his hand.

“I’m sorry about that. If we revealed out location, I don’t think Therion would have acted as natural.” Alfyn shook his head and turned to face the professor completely. He appeared out of place with his finest robes on.

“Not a problem. What jus’ happened, if I might ask for yer deductions?” Alfyn glanced back to where Therion had been standing. “I figured he woulda had the drink too, but that don’t seem to be his purpose, huh?” Cyrus shook his head.

“I’m afraid not. He needed something from the bartender, and whatever the note was, that was what he was seeking out. You’re right. It is strange that Therion would not take a sip of the delicacy provided to him. He does enjoy his nights at the tavern as much as the rest of us.” Cyrus adjusted his robes and began to exit the tavern. Alfyn followed behind him in a less dignified manner. Glancing at his surroundings, Therion was nowhere to be seen.

“He couldn’t have gotten away that fast!” Cyrus raised his eyebrows at him.

“He’s a thief, Alfyn. He’s the fastest of the entire group. I bet he ran straight to somewhere private to peek at that note of his.” Cyrus gave a sigh. “Of course, I doubt that he will tell us what is in that note to begin with. He never does inform us of his business with the Ravus Household and the dragonstones, which is probably what this is about.”

“Yer right ‘bout that.” The two walked in silence as Alfyn’s mind began to rouse with thoughts of Therion and the entirety of his existence. Although he had been the one to bring the group together through his travels, he was the most frustrating to acquaintance with in the entire group. From the beginning, Alfyn had gotten to know most of the travelers through small banter or bonds shared on the battlefield. Yet Therion always shied away from banter, no matter how many times Alfyn initiated the conversation. He isolated himself from group events and went about his business alone. While they had been assisting Primrose in Noblecourt, Therion had disappeared and returned limping with the ruby dragonstone in hand. Alfyn had asked -- frustratingly -- why he had done something so reckless. He only shrugged at him in response.

But it was this enigma surrounding him that kept Alfyn interested as to who he was. There was something about him that attracted him, even if the group deemed it a lost cause. Behind that downtrodden look, there was a true heart within him. Alfyn had seen it on many cases: Therion giving some solace to Primrose during their time in Stillsnow, aiding Tressa with her search for the eldrite in Victor’s Hollow, and leading the search for Ophilia in Goldshore. There was a genuine part of him that Alfyn admired. It made Alfyn want to get to know him better and, in turn, be able to give him the same heart that he did others. Even if he refused his help or denied the actions he performed.

The gentleman arrived at the inn once more. Stepping inside left a refreshing feeling within Alfyn; his body grateful to be away from the sweltering heat. Inside, most of the group had gathered around a sitting area and chatted energetically with each other. H’aanit -- aroused from her slumber -- questioned Olberic as to his battles and marked on the map the direction they would need to head for his final challenge. Tressa laid with Linde on the floor, giggling as the snow leopard nuzzled her. Ophilia instructed Primrose in the art of making baskets out of wood. The girls were the first to notice their arrival as Ophilia stood with a gentle smile.

“Any luck?” Cyrus nodded.

“Yes, he was there. Unfortunately, he disappeared just as fast as he came. Seems he has business here regarding his own task, and he is not up to sharing the details with anyone else.” Tressa gave an exasperated sigh of relief and sat up from the floor. Linde purred in annoyance next to her.

“At least he’s not stealing my business. But that’s not anything new or exciting from him.” She blew a piece of her hair to the side of her face and crossed her arms. “Do you guys ever wonder what goes through that brain of his? He’s got to be thinking up there; I mean, he’s always brooding about! Guys that brood are sure to be thinking!”

“Tressa, thou should not label Therion as a man who broodeth,” H’aanit chided. She set her pen down on the center table. “But thou hast a point. Even whenst I met him, he was distant and chatteth little regarding himself.”

“He’s a man with his own issues,” Olberic chimed. “Wants to get them done without making a large scene of it. I can understand where he is coming from in terms of his persistence to finish his business. However, I do wish he opened up more to us.” Alfyn settled next to Olberic and sighed, placing an arm on his knee.

“As do I. I’m sure if he did, we’d get t’know so much more about him. I know there’s so much more to him than y’all believe he does.” Primrose strutted over to Alfyn’s side and placed a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“We know how much you try with him,” she reassured softly. “I think it will take a little more time, that’s all. Olberic’s right: he probably has some issues that he is not willing to share with the group yet. But I think by trying to involve him in group activities and banter, you are making some strides with him.” She glanced at the rest of the group. “I think we can all do a little bit better in trying to getting to know Therion. We’ve all been a bit distant with him.” Ophilia nodded in agreement.

“I can get him to help with preparing meals for the group. Since he’s into apples, I can help him make different dishes with apples! Or cut his apples into different shapes to bring some difference to his routine!” H’aanit smiled.

“That soundeth wonderful, Ophilia. Perhaps he can joineth me and Linde on our walks around the city for challenges. If it appealeth for him to steal, we can assist for the purpose of finances.”

“I’m always looking for someone to do research with,” Cyrus added. “Perhaps I can attune it to something that he would prefer. Perhaps Aeber’s history throughout time and his role in bringing down Galdera at the birth of the Sacred Flame?” Tressa raised his eyebrows at him

“Really? History? Maybe something more modern and fascinating, Professor. Like, I don’t know, more tips to steal. That way, we can increase our finances and he can build some confidence around his skills.” Olberic gave a pat on Alfyn’s shoulder.

“We’ll all do better for him, Alfyn. It does not have to be just you in this battle.” Alfyn gave a grateful smile to all of them.

“Thanks. You don’t know how much I appreciate yer efforts in this. Jus’ like Primrose said, a lil’ time can get Therion as cheerful as the rest of us!” Everyone nodded in agreement. Alfyn’s heart swelled. It brought him a sense of pride to be able to bring the group together over something positive for another person. Ophilia clapped her hands together and collected her work in progress.

“Well, I’m going to start on supper preparations. Prim, can you help me out?” Primrose nodded, lifting herself from Alfyn’s side.

“Of course. Better get started now if we’re going to feed all eight mouths.” Ophilia and Primrose departed for the kitchen. Cyrus adjusted his robes once more and glanced over to H’aanit and Olberic.

“If you don’t mind, you two, I’d like to discuss a matter of great importance with you. It regards our next destination for Olberic’s purposes. I have some background knowledge that I think would be helpful for us to know in order to guide the younger ones successfully.” Tressa frowned.

“Hey! I can take care of my own battles! You should have seen me today! I gave the finishing blow to that lizardman! He fell right over at the force of my tradewinds!” Olberic chuckled and stood alongside H’aanit, who gave a signal to Linde.

“Tressa, could thou watcheth Linde for me? It will only be for a quicketh moment.” She nodded, defeat written on her face.

“Yeah...I’ll take good care of her.” Cyrus departed the room with the two warriors, leaving Alfyn and Tressa by themselves. Alfyn waited for the footsteps to disappear down the hall before dropping his smile and letting out a sigh. Tressa’s defeated look disintegrated as concern became etched on her face. “It isn’t like you to sigh so negatively. Something else on your mind?” Alfyn shook his head.

“Nah, Tress. Nothin’ t’worry yerself over.” Tressa stood from her position next to Linde and took Olberic’s spot on the couch. Alfyn recognized the frown that came over her face: it was her confrontational appeal that knew he was only trying to keep her in a positive mood.

“I don’t think so, Alf. Everyone thinks we’ve reached a good deal. Especially since you are the one that brought it up, it’s unnerving when you give a sigh right afterward. What’s going through that medicine brain of yours?” Alfyn sighed in defeat. With Ophilia and Olberic, it was easier to get around difficult conversations. Tressa was like Primrose, however: she was persistent. Primrose was a role model to her.

“It’s just...that’s not gonna be enough, I don’t think,” he admitted, raising his hands to support his chin. “Therion’ll shrug off the gestures initially; he’ll join ‘em if we remain persistent. However, I think it’ll take a deeper understandin’ of the man to really open his heart, y’know? Like understandin’ some of what makes him Therion. And that stuff he ain’t willin’ to share.” Tressa gave a huff as she matched Alfyn’s position.

“You’re right about that. But I think that with all of us helping him out, he make come out to at least one person in our group. You, of all people, have the best chance of breaking through to him. He is at his most tolerable when you are around. As if he knows that you are going to help him.”

“Ya think?” Tressa nodded with an affirming smile.

“I know so.” She stood, giving Alfyn a pat on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t put too much fret over it, though. As you said, it will take time, and we’ve still got plenty of that going for us on our journey.” She whistled to Linde, who rose from her spot near the empty fireplace. “C’mon, Linde. I bet if we help Phili and Prim with supper, they’ll give us some free snacks!” Linde purred with excitement as she strided with Tressa toward the kitchen. Alfyn gave another sigh with a long look at his hands.

 _E_ _ven_ _so, Therion’s a tough one to get to open up. Only during our encounter in Noblecourt did he bother t’tell me what his purpose was in this journey. And that was so I could give ‘im a proper diagnosis._ He clenched his hands into fists and squeezed for a moment. _I gotta find a way to get t’know the man a bit better. If I don’t...I’m afraid he’ll get ‘himself hurt one day without the rest of us knowin’ a thing._ He released his fists and stood, shaking his head and giving himself a smile. _No reason t’lose hope now, though. I’m not the type to jus’ give up on somethin’ so impossible. The enigma that man is...as the professor would say, I’m gonna solve this puzzle! And I’ll be damned if I give up now!_ With a renewed sense of determination in his heart, Alfyn departed the sitting room toward the kitchen for the same purpose as Tressa and Linde. Being taught by the archbishop herself, Ophilia’s food was nothing short of divine. He hoped that he would be able to garner some appetizers before the main dish, unaware that he was being watched from the shadows under a watchful eye.

* * *

The rest of that night, Therion did not return to the inn. Although Alfyn had tried to stay up late to watch for him, he found that the battles against the lizardmen had tuckered him out far more than he imagined. Although it frustrated him to have to surrender, Alfyn resigned to his room for the night, falling asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. His dreams were normally never as fascinating as Cyrus’ seemed to be, nor as horrific as Primrose’s. They were average at best, with a few chilling aspects here and there. Maybe he needed to perform an amputation. Perhaps he needed to fight on the edge of a waterfall. It depended on the adventure he would have on any given day.

That night, however, his dreams were strange. Most of his dreams only starred himself; Tressa occasionally entered them if she had a large role in his day. But that night, Alfyn was standing at the edge of a precipice in the Cliftlands, looking down upon the ravine below. The sight was breathtaking in itself, but it was not the strange aspect. The ravine -- which Alfyn was sure would normally have a turquoise or clear hue -- was tainted red, and a body floated upon its surface. If Alfyn scrutinized it enough, its resemblance was that of Therion’s, purple scarf and all. No matter how Alfyn called to him, his corpse did not rise. Therion had never starred in _any_ of his dreams. For his first appearance to be so macabre seemed to portend an omen.

“Alfyn!” His eyes opened quickly and he sat up. His gaze darted around the room until they landed on Tressa’s cheery eyes. They seemed to carry a glint of mischief within them. He sighed with relief and rubbed at his eyes.

“Mornin’ Tress…” he mumbled. “A bit early for you to be up. What’s on yer mind?”

“I saw Therion leave really early this morning, tossing his note subtly into the trash can in the kitchen. It was all crumpled up when I found it.”

“...so?”

“ _So_? This is the only clue we’ve ever gotten into his business with the dragonstones! Aren’t you just a bit curious?” She pulled the note out from her satchel. Alfyn glanced over her outfit. It appeared she was ready to head out into the battlefield for another day of adventure. The note, indeed, had wrinkles showing its discarding. “Here it says, ‘A cave on the outskirts.’ From my understanding, we’ve already been to a cave in the Western Wellspring Sands. Which means the only other location it could be is to the south. Hence, Therion’s business is in the Southern Wellspring Sands in a cave!”

“And why did ya tell me this?” Tressa smirked.

“That’s where we’re headed.” Alfyn was now more aware of what Tressa had told him. He rose from his bed and stood with a broad position, as if imposing authority over her, similar to Olberic.

“Tressa, that would be very rude of us t’impede on his business like that.”

“We wouldn’t impede. Just watch from a distance. Besides, it’s your only chance to get insight into what makes Therion who he is, no? It’s what you want and you know it!” He shook his head.

“I’d rather hear it from Therion ‘imself. Besides, even if we went, it could backfire real quick. He’s got a keen sense; if he finds us, we place a mightier barrier between each other. That’s no way to gainin’ someone’s trust.” Tressa clasped her hands together and her eyes now shone with a pleading glimmer.

“Please, Alf? I don’t want to go into the sands alone! And besides, it’s not like we would try to involve ourselves into his issues. It would be like Cyrus when he’s doing his experiments for his research! Please, Alf! Please with an extra cherry on top? I’ll buy you those herbs you been ogling over in the booths!” Alfyn glanced into her eyes once more. There was no getting past that begging glimmer within them, especially when new medicinal materials were on the line. He sighed with defeat and scratched his head.

“Alright, Tress. I’ll accompany you there.” Tressa pumped a fist into the air and a wide smile exploded across her lips. It was what she did for every time she was about to embark on a new adventure for the day.

“Yay! Oh, thank you Alf! I promise we won’t get involved in any of his issues! Now, hurry up and get dressed! He already left the inn this morning, which means we’ve a lot of catching up to do! I’ll get some food for the road while you do that. Meet at the front door in five minutes!” She scurried out of the room with excitement; her hollers could be heard down the hallway.

“Don’t wake the others!” Alfyn chided behind her, but she was already in the kitchen before his words could reach her. He shook his head as he prepared himself for another day. Part of him carried concern for invading in matters he should not be involved in. He knew the golden rule of trust was to never cross a boundary. This would most definitely cross a boundary. However, the mischievous part of him that always came out with Tressa was riled up. How exciting it would be to finally see what Therion did during their time away from him! If he was more overt about it, perhaps the enigma would not be as stimulating to him as money was to Tressa.

Settled in his green vest, satchel filled with herbs, and axe at his side, Alfyn quietly met Tressa at the entrance to the inn four minutes later. She now carried an extra bag at her side filled with different delectables from the previous night. The sun had barely risen over the horizon in Wellspring, but it was enough to add more shine to Tressa’s eyes than before. “Well, are you ready? I hear the enemies are not so easy to the south. But with you and I as a team, we’ve nothing to fear!” Alfyn nodded.

“You betcha. Just promise me you’ll be careful still.” They walked out into the streets of Wellspring. A refreshing cool air guided them as they passed by different booths being stocked for the new day. Different items from yesterday’s markets were on the stands today, although the medicine booth contained most of the same herbs and materials as before. It was still a tempting offer, but Alfyn would have to review them another time. Perhaps he could convince Tressa to get him a good bargain when she fulfilled her end of the exchange.

It was not long until they arrived at the southern gate of the city. The sun had risen over the horizon, increasing the ground temperature enough to create sweat on Alfyn’s forehead. Tressa marched into the sands happily, swiping away any smaller monsters that invaded the path. Alfyn took care of the more difficult monsters in her stead, swinging his axe at any that dared to threaten her. Although she pouted and swore she could do it herself, she often mumbled her thanks before marching right along. Nothing got her down for long. It was one of the things that always brought Alfyn into a cheery mood.

At one point, Tressa stopped beside a large slab of sandstone and motioned for Alfyn to join her. Behind it were numerous voices, all toned to a whisper. Alfyn observed an individual walk past the slab and through to the entrance of the cave. He appeared to be wearing a mask for anonymity. Alfyn frowned. Therion had not mentioned being a part of a secret group, nor would it be like him to join one. He always loathed group activities in general. Alfyn turned his gaze back to Tressa, who had her ear against the stone to eavesdrop on the conversations ahead of them.

“Hmm...seems like an event for the aristocrats,” Tressa deduced after some time. She lifted her ear from the stone and crossed her arms. “And everyone is being searched thoroughly before they are allowed to enter the cave. Even then, it seems there is some sort of escort system.”

“Some people I’ve noticed have been wearin’ masks,” Alfyn added. “Perhaps for anonymity. But it would not make much sense. I figured the aristocratic types liked t’keep close t’another.” Tressa nodded.

“I would think so to. Which means this could be a competitive event?” She began to tap her foot in the sand. “And then that leaves the trillion leaf question: what would Therion be doing in a place like this? We could say that he’s here to steal fancy treasures, if it was for an aristocratic event. But it has to be something specific. Therion would not throw himself in a public event like this just for a silly treasure. He likes to work behind the scenes.”

“And this is behind the scenes, mind you two,” came a scholarly voice from behind Alfyn. Tressa jumped back in fright as Alfyn turned on his heel to face Cyrus and Olberic beside him. Olberic stood guard beside Cyrus, observing the background with a hand at the hilt of his sword. Cyrus had a tome open and a knowing smile on his face. “Not many should even know about the event, much less attend it for themselves.”

“What are you two even here for?!” Tressa hissed. “You scared the jeepers out of us! Mrgrgr!”

“I could ask you two the same thing. You two should be back at the inn and resting after your battles yesterday. Unless, of course, you are here for the same reasons we are? Something about an enigmatic thief entering a crowded event for something specific?” Alfyn felt a blush creep on his cheeks, and Cyrus clucked his tongue in response. “I see. Well, you two really should not be here. Although this event seems innocent enough, we have reason to believe that it is a dangerous fight zone.”

“And why not? We’re capable fighters both! Just because you and Olberic are stronger, does not mean that you can’t use more assistance!” Tressa pulled out her spear and began to twirl it in a style similar to Olberic. “Where you are weak, I am strong! I am the mighty Tressa!”

“That being said,” Olberic interjected, “there may be strong foes here that we must face. Tressa, if something were to happen to you because you could not save yourself, or gods forbid Alfyn was not with you, we would not be able to live with ourselves."

“I promise I’ll be fine! We’ll both be fine! We’ll be even better off together, especially since we all seem to be here for the same purpose of Therion’s motives in this event.” Once more, she clasped her hands and brought out her pleading voice. “Please, Professor! Say you’ll let us come! We promise not to interfere with Therion’s objectives or get in your way!” Alfyn gave a smirk to Cyrus.

“Don’t stare to long in ‘er eyes. They’re magnetizin’ and convincin’ to all who view ‘em.” Cyrus gave a sigh and turned to Olberic. He already seemed convinced that he could not deter Tressa to leave otherwise.

“Might as well, Olberic. Four is better than two, statistically speaking. Besides, both _can_ hold their own in battle. And their assets in battle would prove useful.” Olberic took a long breath before exhaling and turning to the two.

“Alright. But, if either of you feel the slightest bit tired, you are heading back to Wellspring. Deal?” Tressa pumped her fist into the air and jumped in the sands around her.

“Yeah!” Alfyn nodded his head in gratitude.

“Thanks, Olberic. We won’t let ya down.” Cyrus cleared his throat to garner Tressa’s attention.

“Now, we might as well explain what exactly you are hearing beyond this wall. This is Wellspring’s esteemed black market, just on the outskirts of town. I’ve been doing some research on it over the course of a few days while you all have been helping with the lizardmen invasion. It is quite the illegal hub of circulation; aristocrats and paupers alike attend the event in the hopes to sell grand and view upon some of the rarest items money can buy. As it would happen, a certain green stone is in circulation. Said certain green stone would be the likely target of a man needing to return it to a proper home. Hence, Therion is here to steal it.”

“Makes sense. So why would ya consider it dangerous?”

“Thieves run amok in this market as much as aristocrats do,” Olberic explained. “We came here to not only investigate further on the dealings of the black market and Therion, but in order to bring some relief to the citizens of Wellspring from these thieves.”

“Those desiring riches would do anything to get to the top,” Cyrus added, placing his tome within his robes. He pulled out from his own satchel a set of masks similar to the one that the aristocrat had worn to enter the event. “Many wear these masks so that they do not make themselves a target to prying eyes and depraved minds. We’ll need the same in order to enter the event ourselves.” Cyrus handed each member a mask. It was midnight black with three holes for seeing and breathing. They seemed to resemble a face on a statue or mosaic. Alfyn slipped it over his head and adjusted it accordingly. Tressa made a noise of discomfort.

“This feels stupid,” she commented, adjusting it and placing her spear back amongst her belongings. Cyrus began to walk forward and motioned for the rest to follow.

“Follow my lead and remain quiet unless spoken to. I’ll do the talking.” Without another word, the four of them waltzed into the entrance. Guards lined their path at every step, to which Cyrus gave a friendly curtsy or bow to appear as an aristocrat. It did not surprise Alfyn as the professor did work for royalty prior to his journey. As they approached the entrance to the cave, they were halted by two guards with similar masks.

“State your purpose,” the first one spoke tersely. Cyrus cleared his throat.

“I am leading one of our esteemed merchants, alongside our bodyguards, to her table. Her items are to be the main course for today’s auction. I figured more security would keep her items as well-preserved as possible.” Alfyn could hear Tressa’s breathing become erratic in excitement and pride. The second guard glanced at them strictly before stepping aside with the first. “Thank you, gentlemen.” Cyrus motioned for them to follow once more. The cave itself was as golden as the sands outside, but there was more sparkle to be seen with the amount of exotic items set upon each booth. Cyrus discarded the mask and set it to the side, motioning for the others to do the same.

“Ooh, that was so fun!” Tressa squealed as soon as her mask was off. “So that’s what it feels like to be one of the rich and fancy! We should do that some more!” Alfyn chuckled.

“You’ll always be our top merchant, Tress.” He turned to Cyrus, who was scrutinizing his surroundings as he always did in a new location. There was one thing off for sure: it was too quiet for a black market. “Where’s the people, Professor? Suppose the main event’s startin’?” Cyrus shook his head.

“No. There seems...to be no one here.” It was then Alfyn noticed it: a noblewoman underneath one of the booths with her hands over her ears. There were tears streaming down her face and her eyes were shut in fear. Alfyn glanced at the other booths. Nobles and paupers alike were under those tables in the same positions, hiding in fear of their lives.

“Professor, somethin’s happened here. People are under them booths rockin’ themselves to find some peace.” Cyrus glanced under the booths and adjusted his robes accordingly.

“Good eye, Alfyn. Let me ask.” Cyrus bent low to the woman from before and gave her a soft smile. “If I might ask, what is a wonderful lady such as yourself doing under a booth and crying her eyes out?” The woman took a sharp breath.

“Someone’s...been murdered! S-selling a stone and murdered by thieves!” Tressa cocked her head in confusion, as did Alfyn. _Therion wouldn’t have killed a man for a stone, would he? It wouldn’t make no sense for ‘im to do it._ Cyrus clucked his tongue.

“I see. In which direction, if you know, did they happen to run off?” The woman pointed a shaky finger to an isolated path deeper into the cave. Cyrus nodded his head and gave a soft bow. “Thank you for your assistance. We will stop the thieves from doing further harm, I assure you on my honor.” He turned to the group. “Let’s go, everyone.” Following Cyrus’ lead, they rushed deeper into the cave. Tressa held onto her hat as they ran, adjusting it to a battle position.

“Wait, did Therion kill someone for the stone?” she asked breathlessly. Alfyn shook his head.

“I don’t think that would be Therion’s best choice, Tress. Besides, it ain’t in his nature to kill someone without a good purpose.” Cyrus nodded in agreement.

“Agreed. And it seems there are more than one of them. Therion came alone, so far as we’re concerned.” Around them, voices seemed to echo off of the walls but were indecipherable from their footsteps overwhelming them. Cyrus stopped suddenly and skirted behind a set of rocks before a clearing. Tressa joined him while Olberic and Alfyn took to the other side, leaning their backs against them and quieting their breaths. It was then that the voices became lucid, especially the abnormally broken one doing half of the talking.

“I never thought I would see you again, least of all here.”

Alfyn leaned ever so slightly from behind the rock to gain a better view of the situation. There were a line of thieves in the background; one carried a radiant green stone in their hand. _The emerald dragonstone._ Their gazes were intent on the two figures standing against each other. One was Therion’s; his distinct purple scarf was recognizable from any distance. The other figure appeared tyrannical to Alfyn with long red locks and a cape meant for a king. The smile on the tyrant was strangely collected, yet seemed to be hiding a bigger secret.

“Likewise. I’d heard rumors of another tea leaf after the dragonstones. But I never thought it’d be you. I’m amazed you’re still kickin’!” _He’s definitely the one behind the killin’; him and ‘is whole group. But he and Therion...they know each other from some distant past._ Alfyn eyed Cyrus from the other side. His pen dashed frantically on the paper, catching every detail he could of the conversation. Tressa held a hand to her mouth to keep quiet.

“I see you’ve found yourself some new partners in crime.” There was something behind those words that Alfyn wished he could decipher; wished he could understand. They sounded...dejected and betrayed. The red tyrant shrugged them off with ease.

“I wouldn’t call them ‘partners.’ They work for me.” He began to trail around Therion, similar to Primrose as she performed a panther dance. “So. How’s life been without me? It must be exciting, if that fool’s bangle is any indication. Hahaha!” Therion’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. _Fool’s bangle? Isn’t that the metal thing for convicts and t’like?_ “Could that be why you’re after the dragonstones?” Therion remained silent. “You’ve gotten sloppy, mate. Stealing used to be your only talent. It’s the only reason I kept you around for so long.” Alfyn’s blood began to boil. _Kept ‘im around? As a partner? That’s no partnership to me. Probably used for stealin’, but then what? Is that the only quality this bastard found in Therion?_ His hands clenched into fists as he tried to control his building anger.

“Enough, Darius,” Therion finally spoke. Darius stopped just behind Therion, eyes veering at him with venom laced in every iris

“I guess you’re right. There’s really no point in reminiscing.” He walked away from him, back turned from his former partner. “He’s all yours, boys.” The center thief with the stone nodded firmly, eyes scanning Therion with sadistic pleasure.

“Leave ‘im to us, boss!” The red tyrant -- Darius -- disappeared as the clash began in the clearing. Alfyn began to move from behind the rock to help Therion, as he was outmatched three-to-one. However, Olberic placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. Alfyn’s brow furrowed.

“We can’t just leave ‘im to fight them alone! He was just--” Olberic placed a hand to his mouth.

“I know. But we can’t let him know we are here. Therion can handle them. He’s a strong fighter.” Olberic continued to hold him in that position as the sound of steel clashing echoed through the cave. Occasionally a scream would come from one of the thieves and a thud would be heard seconds later. Alfyn glanced over at Cyrus and Tressa. Cyrus was still furiously writing while Tressa had curled next to him in fright. The scuffling decreased as Alfyn began to smell corpses rotting in the vicinity. All went silent after a final thud was heard from in front of them. Alfyn heard Therion let out a sigh. There was that betrayed, dejected tone again.

“Do you ever get tired of using people, Darius? Just like you used me…” Alfyn was seeing red, struggling against Olberic’s grip. _Used?! Damn that Darius! I oughta take my axe and --_ Olberic strengthened his grip on Alfyn, causing pain to ripple in his shoulder and wrist. Alfyn hissed as Olberic let go, eyes focused on him. Therion’s footsteps were fading in the distance.

“Alfyn, you need to calm yourself,” he spoke calmly as he stood. Alfyn stood promptly and shook his head. His fists were still clenched and his cheeks were brimming with heat.

“That man -- Darius, or whatever -- is a complete bastard! He used him and, from the look of it all, threw ‘im away like refuse! What kind of person deserves that treatment, Olberic?!” Cyrus hushed him as he dusted off his robes. His pen had disappeared but his tome remained open in front of them. Tressa lurked behind them. Her figure quivered but she remained silent, attempting to straighten her position.

“I understand how you feel, Alfyn, but I agree with Olberic. You tend to let your emotions get the better of you in the moment. If we are going to get to the complete bottom of this, we need to keep a cool head.” Alfyn averted his gaze to the ground. _No one, not even Therion, deserves that kind of treatment from that lowlife scum. It’s inhumane! It’s horrible! It’s…!_

“...he may very well be t’reason Therion’s been isolatin’ himself from us. Because that damn bastard made ‘im cold and untrustin’ toward others.” His eyes rose to meet Cyrus’ and his fists clenched tighter. He began to lose feeling in his fingers. “Therion don’t deserve any of it! No matter where in hell he came from! And damn if I’m not gonna do anythin’ about it!” Olberic placed his hand on Alfyn’s shoulder again.

“We’ll do something about it, Alfyn. But for now, we need to remain calm and pursue them. Darius still has that dragonstone, and that’s Therion’s main objective.” Olberic glanced deeper into the cave, point at a rut in the clearing. “Therion dashed that way. Let’s give chase.” Olberic led the way this time, pressing through the occasional monster or guardsmen that stood in their way. Alfyn trailed close behind, fists still clenched and breath laced with his boiling temper. It wasn’t fair that Therion was treated in this manner! What had he done to deserve it? What had caused him to be this way? _Certainly nothin’ worth throwin’ yer friends away for!_

“A-Alf?” Alfyn glanced to Tressa at his side. Her eyes no longer held the glint of adventure, scanning his face frantically. “Are...you okay?” _I’ve probably scared ‘er to pieces._ He gave his best smile and nodded.

“Of course, Tress. How ‘bout yerself? Holdin’ up with us in these battles?” She nodded fervently.

“Y-yes! The mighty Tressa didn’t come to hold you guys back! Me and my lance still have plenty of energy to keep going forever!” She averted his gaze nervously, despite the light banter. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m not gonna tell ya twice because I’m sure of my answer. Why do ya ask so much?”

“...I’ve never seen you that angry about anything. Alfyn, you’re normally so calm and collected in the face of turbulence. But just now...your face was as red as a tomato and your knuckles were as white as a sail.” Alfyn felt a pang of guilt in his heart. Tressa was the youngest of the group, to which he considered her a fantastic younger sister. For him to scare her so calmed some of the rage in his heart.

“I’m sorry, Tress. It’s just...it really is unfair to Therion. The way he’s been treated. He prolly didn’t deserve a single moment of the abuse.” He gave his signature smirk, albeit restrained. “But I assure you: we’re gonna get him through this obstacle! Whether he likes it or not!” Her smile returned; the signature one that loved adventure and bargaining so much.

“Right!” Olberic stopped abruptly in front of them, ducking near another set of rocks before a clearing. Tressa joined Olberic this time as Alfyn hid with Cyrus behind a settlement much closer to the dialogue. Alfyn leaned from behind the rock for a better view as Cyrus took to his tome. Once more, Therion stood in front of Darius in a confronting position. His eyes were lit with a bold determination to retrieve the emerald dragonstone, but there was something else: fecklessness. His eyes bored into the dragonstone rather than the man towering before him. Darius glared at him with a scowl imprinted on his face.

“...You just refuse to die, don’t you?” Cyrus immediately placed a hand on Alfyn’s wrist as his form began to tremble. The calm that had washed over him while reassuring Tressa had all but been exterminated. He knew Cyrus’ eyes glared at him in warning, but it was even worse than he had imagined it. _Had he...tried to kill Therion? Did he even perform an action that deserved such a ghastly fate?!_

“Tell me: why are you after the dragonstone?” Darius held his arms out, broadening his stance. His shadow expanded, swallowing Therion in its presence.

“Why does a tea leaf steal anything, Therion? I don’t need a reason to want what I do.” His vision had begun to go red again; this time it was hard to see clearly in front of him.

“...I should’ve known.” Therion’s position appeared resigned again, as if he held no power to his former partner in front of him. Despite every other gods forbidden enemy -- with perhaps far worse intentions -- being easy targets for him to strike down without a second thought. _For the brilliant thief that fights with such vigor in battle...this bastard…_

“What’s with those pitiful minces?” Therion’s eyes glanced upward in surprise. In fear? No. In vulnerability. In a sense of a broken spirit that had long faced adversity without reprieve.

“Huh?” Darius strided slowly toward him in a similar manner to before. Alfyn noted this keenly; how his footwork tended to slow around Therion like a predator stalking his prey. If he followed the same dance as last time, his back would be to Therion. His position would be right in front of him and Cyrus: open and unguarded.

“So cold and guarded...distrusting and wary.” Therion averted his gaze. His form shrunk.

“What does it matter?” His feet began to itch; begging for someone to pay for what they did. Cyrus had stopped writing in his tome and placed his other hand on his shoulder.

“Alfyn, take a deep breath for me. You need to remain calm.” He inhaled slowly, taking in the bitter air that tried to cool the boiling--

“Does my betrayal still haunt you?” They were said with venom laced in every syllable, but with a smirk touting victory and confidence. Alfyn’s breath caught in his throat. There was only one thing on Alfyn’s mind now: getting that man on the ground and for blood to be spilled. It was unlike him in every manner, but he had lost control of his collected self long ago. He writhed against Cyrus’ grip; as a scholar, his physical strength was abysmal and easy to penetrate.

“Alfyn! Stop it! You’re going to get us all in deep waters!” he hissed quietly, frantically glancing at Olberic for assistance. Darius had stopped behind Therion once more. _He’s right there._

“You haven’t changed a bit. For a top-notch tea leaf, you’re still pathetically sentimental.”

“Enough talk, Darius.” It was at the weakest he had ever heard his voice be. His voice was breaking; was frozen against the tyrant that had taken everything from him. Darius let out a sneer, turning to face Therion’s back with a devilish grin.

“I recall you having wittier comebacks, mate.”

“Alfyn!”

His feet finally shuffled freely forward, fists connecting with a shoulder blade and his vision searing red as he could barely make out a scream from the tyrant in front of him. He watched the tyrant quickly stumble to the side, clutching his shoulder and gazing frantically at the new intruder in his base. Alfyn did not bother to let him have a break, moving forward again with as much celerity and slamming Darius into a set of rocks on the side of the clearing. His eyes were no longer filled with venom, but rather terror as Alfyn landed another punch on his menacing face.

“Alfyn?!” he could barely hear Therion sputter out. Darius spit out blood and glared at him.

“And who in blazes are you supposed to be?!” Alfyn growled.

“The man who’s gonna end your sorry life!” He heard a shuffling in the corner of the clearing; Darius’ lead henchman and his guards.

“Lord Darius! Let’s go, men!” Alfyn veered at them from the corner of his eye. He pulled up Darius by his cape and swung him around to clamp him by his throat. Alfyn held his axe to it and growled at his henchmen, who skidded to a halt.

“One step closer and it’s off with his head!”

“Alfyn, stop this!” Cyrus stood from behind the rock; his elemental tomes were in his hands replacing his journalistic one and eyes wide with terror. Olberic and Tressa appeared quickly on either side of him. Olberic had his sword readied in his hand, as Tressa did with her lance. But her figure trembled heavily and tears formed at the corners of her eyes. Her lip quivered, frozen between screaming at him and remaining silent. “You’re exacerbating the situation!” Alfyn only held Darius higher and tightened his grip. The man in question writhed under him, kicking and screaming in an attempt to free himself.

“Cyrus, this man is as low as it gets! You know damn well what he did; hell, it’s probably worse than in yer writin’s on ‘im! There’s no way in hell I’m lettin’ him go free!” Darius stilled against his arm momentarily and scowled.

“Ah, an eavesdropper are we? And I presume you’re Therion’s new friends?” He let out a weak sneer, to which Alfyn only tightened his grip. The man’s features were no longer defined as the red tint in his vision darkened. “How pathetic it is for them to have to save you, tea leaf! It only brings testament to my point!” Darius wheezed quickly after; Alfyn felt blood dripping on his arm and onto the floor below him. But it was exactly what he wanted out of him.

“I’d suggest ya keep quiet, lest ya want me to use this. Or worse: give ya one hell of a show with some poisonous herbs. I ain’t like my friends over there: I can make it _hurt_ and real _slow._ ” Darius began to scramble in his grasp once more, his feet bouncing against his kneecaps.

“What the hell do you want from me?!” Alfyn opened his mouth to exclaim the need for his corpse on the ground and Therion avenged for his suffering, but Cyrus chimed in before he could.

“The emerald dragonstone is within your possession. That is something we desire. You’d be wise to hand it over, and I promise on my honor our friend will let you go free without _any more harm._ ” His gaze focused on Alfyn at those words, to which Alfyn shook his head fervently. What part of the entire situation did Cyrus not understand?! Had he not written down -- in his meticulous words -- how this bastard had almost killed Therion and left him to rot away alone?! For his own selfish gambits?! “Yes, Alfyn. We’re not here to cause more commotion.”

“I can’t do that, Professor,” he growled in a low voice. “Ain’t no way you convincin’ me otherwise.” Darius scoffed, eyeing his henchman in the distance. Alfyn could not understand what they were communicating to each other in their contact, to which he whipped Darius’ body in a different direction to face.

“‘Fraid I can’t hand over that stone, mate. It’s more important than I think you tea leaves seem to understand.” It was all Alfyn needed to hear to tighten his grip on Darius and raise the axe slightly for the finishing blow. The henchmen exploded into action, scattering in different directions in an attempt to distract Alfyn from the job. _Not gonna work!_ Except it did. While the other two headed for Cyrus and Olberic -- who deflected their attacks and brought them down with ease, despite Cyrus’ complaints of hard work -- the lead henchmen headed straight for Therion in the center of the clearing, dagger readied at his heart.

And all Therion did was stand still, eyes frozen in fear and shock.

“Therion!” His grip lightened slightly, and it was enough for Darius to shove a foot into his stomach and break free of his grasp. As Darius twirled around and adjusted himself, another blossom of pain was sent through his thigh, forcing Alfyn to hiss and clench his jaw. His eyes caught the gleam of a knife stuck in his thigh as he landed squarely on the ground. Darius only laughed sadistically as he moved away from Alfyn toward the exit with celerity. The lead henchmen eyed him as he went, eyes lighting up with excitement at their success. Darius held the dragonstone high with pride.

“I leave it to you, Gareth! Knock them dead!” The henchman -- Gareth -- nodded with delight. There was a pride in his eyes that craved more.

“Of course, boss!” Gareth swung his knife directly for Therion’s heart, but it was deflected quickly by Olberic’s sword, sending him backwards into a stumble. Alfyn placed a hand on a nearby rock settlement and forced himself to stand. Tressa was at his side in an instant supporting him at his waist.

“You alright, Alf? That knife’s stuck in there pretty good,” she inquired, voice trembling. He only nodded, keeping his eyes on the next best target for his anger. His hand grazed the handle of his axe and gripped it once more. “Alf, hey, don’t move! You’re going to get that knife embedded deeper!” But Alfyn did not care. Painful as it was, it was nowhere near the agony in his heart for that bastard’s actions. He may have escaped his wrath today, but that did not spare anyone that stood in the path between their next encounter. He limped forward, axe pointed at the henchman’s throat. Gareth dusted himself off from Olberic’s interception and gave a sly smile. His dagger danced around his fingers playfully.

“Well, you heard the man. I’ve orders for all five of your heads on a platter. And as his _right hand man,_ ” He gazed at Therion when saying this, eyes filling with the same venom as _his_ , “I plan to execute my orders without hesitation.”

“Not if my godsdamn axe has somethin’ to say about it,” Alfyn warned, positioning himself next to a still frozen Therion and letting a guttural noise take over him. It was primal, barbaric; it hungered for his anger to be satiated. “You’re just like him, ain’tcha? Thinkin’ the same godsdamn way he does and takin’ pride in treatin’ others like the scum on the ground beneath ya!” Gareth let out a noise of approval, shifting his position to face his new challenge.

“It’s what you gotta do to get to the top. M’lord Darius understood that very well, and look where it got him! He’s the king of the thieves!”

“Without even thinkin’ of the godsdamn consequences?! And how can ya be sure Darius ain’t gonna treat ya the same damn way?!” His sly smile grew wider, seeking to aggravate the man further. If Alfyn was thinking as he normally did, he would see it as a way to provoke sloppiness in his battle style. But his mind was wrapped around one little notion that he knew he could not let slide.

“Oh, m’lord’s aware of the consequences. It’s what they deserve for not following his instructions. Just listening to the man’s words will get you far in life. It’s why I’m sure I’ll never be removed from this position. I have the _competence_ to listen and stand by his wholesome decisions.” His eyes wandered to Therion’s, seeking to empoison the broken man further. “And I keep my sentimentality to myself. I do him justice as a _partner_ , unlike some tea leaves.”

An unnatural sound echoed through the cave as Gareth was slammed to the ground when the last words of his sentence left his lips. It was a cacophonous sound that could only come from something demonic in nature and mind. It was booming and overwhelming, silencing the words that Gareth had just spoken and swallowing them whole. The venom in his eyes had all but drained, leaving behind streaks of fear and vulnerability that he had seen on Therion. It was _perfect._ It was exactly what he deserved to be feeling. An axe swung in the air and landed with a clunk into Gareth’s chest, splattering blood within the circumference of his body. He let out a bloody scream, eyes rolling into the back of his head and his body jerking with the movement. The axe was lifted again, this time crashing down upon his abdomen. Blood began to pool beneath the body, lazily expanding toward his feet and further toward the soles of the wielder. The body jerked, but the sound that came from its mouth was a restrained gargle this time, aware of its fate to its guillotine. Its pupils had all but disappeared. The axe was once more lifted, thundering down on the body’s head and splitting open its contents. There was no sound from the body save for the crunch of skeleton underneath the axe.

“Alfyn, stop!” came an intruding voice of wisdom from behind. “That’s enough!” The axe saw no recourse as it found a new home on the neck of the corpse. “Olberic, restrain him!” The axe was restrained as it was lifted for the fifth time, held back by a pair of muscles the wielder once idolized. The muscles wrapped around its arms, squeezing tightly.

“Alfyn, drop the axe. There’s no need for more,” a second voice of reason spoke deeply. It was calmer than the first, but strained against the wielder’s frenzied attempts to free itself from their grasp. Its noises were no longer coherent, but rather growing more unnatural with each grunt. Rage filled every guttural noise and scream.

“Alfyn, please!” came a third innocent voice from a far distance. “Stop it! Stop being angry and just...be Alfyn! This isn’t like you! Please, let this go!” The innocent voice choked back a sob, filled completely with terror. “You’re scaring me!” The wielder roared, widening its stance against the muscles of reason and deflecting them with a sharp jab. The muscles back away and the voice of reason groaned. The axe was lifted again and landed somewhere unrecognizable on the corpse, spilling more of the same contents as before alongside some foreign additions from within it. Different hues of pink, blue, and red displayed themselves in an abstract format on sullied floor beneath it in different shapes and sizes. “Alfyn, please!”

“Alf..yn…” came the voice of reason, restrained by pain.

“Alfyn, do not make me have to use these on you,” the voice of wisdom warned. An incantation was muttered under their breath. The air swirled around it with immense heat. The axe was lifted again, no longer with an aim or purpose--

“...Alfyn.”

The axe halted in mid strike. _Therion._

“That’s enough. He’s already dead.”

His vision began to lighten from its red hue, although it did not reprieve the fantastic shades of red and pink that were scattered before him. The body -- Gareth’s once sly form -- was no longer whole. Different limbs were severed -- almost completely amputated -- from their joints. The pupils were no longer visible and the skin a ghastly shade of blue. Different lacerations revealed different organ systems that could no longer be identified in the chaos. Their lips were slightly parted in an attempt to scream, but there was no noise. No rise and fall of the chest cavity. No heartbeat; it had been scattered to a different end of the cave.

The axe fell to the floor with a clutter. The voice of innocence -- _Tress_ \-- sobbed from the distance. Her figure slumped to the ground and her voice muffled as her hands covered her face. The voice of reason -- _Olberic_  -- landed to the ground and seethed in pain. His hands clutched at his side and rubbed in order to smooth the inflammation that rose. The voice of wisdom -- _Cyrus_ \-- stopped whispering to himself and closed his tome. The heat that had surrounded him dissipated with it. He adjusted his robes softly, checking for any tears. His eyes glanced at these three voices before finally landing on the voice of vulnerability. Their eyes locked, and all he could see was sorrow. Broken pieces of sorrow and anger that seemed to struggle in holding his gaze. His lip quivered similar to Tressa’s, unsure of what else to say. His hands trembled in a clasp. His eye dropped to the floor, breaking the gaze.

“You don’t have to do this for me.” His eyes widened, a hand clamped over his mouth, and a salty stream of tears cascaded down his cheeks and onto his shoulders. He took a step back away from him -- from Therion, the one he only wanted to help -- and his other hand raised to meet the one on his mouth.

“Gods...Therion...I...I just wanted to understand ya better. I…I couldn’t stand seeing ya like that any longer. I...” His shoulders heaved upward with a shaky inhale, sending a tremble through the course of his body. “ _I’m sorry if I hurt you._ ” His knees buckled -- along with the dull throbbing from the knife in his thigh, still spilling fresh blood down his leg and to the floor -- and he landed with a heavy thud. His vision was now dark as he covered his face and let sobs overwhelm his body. The thoughts that had surrounded the one point in his mind had all but dissipated, leaving a wake of remorse and sorrow behind. The other voices silenced, save for a flutter of robes helping Olberic to his feet and inspecting for additional injuries. He wanted understanding, but it had been as Cyrus said: his emotions got the better of him. He only knew emotions. He was mostly a bundle of positive emotions as that was what he was surrounded by. Very rarely was he injected with negativity, let alone the desire to become something other than himself. And what did it get him? Certainly not Therion’s trust; that would sizzle out and become something of the past. Certainly not his friendship either; he would most likely abandon the group and set out on his own. Get himself killed without them knowing. And his heart would break into millions of pieces, knowing that his irrational actions had put him there.

A set of arms hesitantly wrapped around his shoulders. He removed one of his hands briskly, eyes widening at the familiar purple scarf that always stood to the side. It was pressed against his nose, giving him the scent of alehouses and blood, but something distinctly Therion. His eye glanced at the man in question and they locked gazes. There were the shards of a broken man within him, but they were being repaired by a burning desire. “But,” he spoke softly, voice wavering with every word, “that’s the nicest thing anyone has done for me. So...thanks. You didn’t hurt me; you...stood up for me. Thanks for trying…” He broke the gaze, eye gazing onto other features of his trembling body. “Sorry if I’m not good at this comfort thing, either. But...please don’t cry.”

And that was it.

Another unnatural sound echoed through the cave, but it was far different from the first. It was raw in its emotion, lacking the barbaric desire to harm. It was sorrowful in its actions, unsure of where to go or what to think. It belonged to a man whose own heart shattered upon hearing those words, eyes closing in remorse and face burying deep into the purple scarf. His body trembled without restraint, garnering the arms around him to tighten and pull him closer. It overwhelmed all other little noises that the cave provided, sending the monsters nearby into hiding and the people into their own tears or scuffling actions. His mind let itself go into releasing everything he had built up, leaving nothing but a gaping emptiness within to be filled anew with emotions. And immediately, it filled with the notion of something so warm that it sent him into another fit of tears.

For the first time, Alfyn had experienced Therion’s heart.

* * *

The trek to Wellspring was silent. There was nothing to be said. Cyrus led the group back through the sands, sending tempests of ice and infernos to any who dared to hinder them. He assisted a limping Olberic at his side, eyes dulled and intent in reaching the inn. Olberic’s eyes were lidded and on the verge of closing, although his hand still held a sword out to assist Cyrus where he could not exterminate the enemy. Tressa lurked behind them, kicking up the tan sand in her path and keeping her figure hunched. She did not bother to assist Cyrus and Olberic in their fights; no longer needing to prove herself worthy on the battlefield. There were no winds to guide their path.

At the back of the group, Alfyn limped alongside Therion, who supported his injured leg back to Wellspring. He had managed to pull the knife from his thigh, spreading blood in all different directions and causing a greater sense of commotion between them. Cyrus had sealed the blood away with his well-taught clerical skills as Alfyn created a temporary poultice for the wound. Yet Cyrus demanded someone assist him on the return trip, not wanting to incite more chaos should he fall over. Therion -- in a surprise to all -- had offered to do it. Both kept their gazes separate as they walked; Therion’s focused to the sandstone buildings ahead while Alfyn kept his toward the ground. There was nothing roaming through his mind, as indicated by his similarly dulled eyes.

Primrose and Ophilia were weaving baskets by the fire when the group entered, seemingly in different patterns and styles that matched each member of the group. Primrose’s eyes darted to each person frantically as she stood, counting their heads on her finger and glancing at the limping forms of Alfyn and Olberic keenly. “What happened?” she asked, voice laced with a terrifying calm. Cyrus shook his head and the group began to scatter.

“Another time, Prim. Everyone is okay and will live. That’s all that matters.” Tressa dashed away presumably to her room as Cyrus led Olberic toward Ophilia, seeking her expertise in healing. Therion guided Alfyn away from the sitting area and toward his room in the inn. The door was still open from the early morning and his bed still unmade from his quick preparations. Therion settled him onto the bed -- per Cyrus’ instructions that he was to be put to bed for some needed rest -- and settled his leg comfortably on stacked pillows to ease the pain. Neither male exchanged a word, even as Therion departed to find other pillows to support his head. Before Therion could return, Alfyn had already passed into a dreamless slumber, given by the state of his emotions.

Days passed. Alfyn’s wound had all but healed, save for a dull pain and a scar where the knife once made its mark. Yet he had no desire to leave his room. His mind was still a hollow stone, set to replay on the moments of that day. Members of the group often found him facing the window viewing the vibrant town, eyes focused on the wall before him, and despondent to any cues or suggestions spoken to him. H’aanit did her best to give him comfort through Linde, who purred and nuzzled at his bedside. Ophilia gave prayers of encouragement, bringing him different variants of meals for him to experiment with. Primrose had bought him the set of herbs his eyes had poured over at the booths, hoping it would relight the fire. But none of the attempts gave Alfyn any form of comfort. Cyrus came in on occasion but never with a word. Olberic was at rest in his own room. Tressa and Therion had gone off of his radar

On the third day, a booming knock was heard at his door. Alfyn did not move from his bed to answer it, letting the knocks echo and fade. It was most likely Cyrus, ready to scrutinize him for another few minutes before being on his way to his research. Another knock at the door, this time softer against the wood with less echoing. A grumble came from the other side of the door. “He’s not answering.” Alfyn’s heart -- languid and heavy from the emptiness -- ignited again. It was a familiar voice, so close but so far away.

“He’s been like that for a few days now,” came the calm, sweet voice of Primrose in response. Her accessories gave a jingle as she adjusted her position by the door. “You’re going to have to open it yourself if you want to talk to him.”

“And you’re sure about that? He normally recovers from these little slips in, I don’t know, a day at most? The man’s made of the most positive feelings in Orsterra.”

“Nothing will get him to talk,” calm the soft, gentle voice of Ophilia rebuttaling his claim. “I’ve tried everything within my power, but he just stares at the wall. It’s as if he’s not even awake. I’m becoming worried for his health…” Another knock was heard from the other side of the door. It was demanding yet urgent in its purpose

“Alfyn, I know you’re not sleeping in there.” He heard Primrose give a long sigh.

“It’s not worth it right now. He’ll come out and talk when he’s ready to. Why don’t we let it go and do something for Olberic? Or help H’aanit with her new traps for combat?” There was a noise of dissent that came from the familiar voice.

“Nope. Not happening. This is an emergency that needs to be dealt with immediately.” Another knock; this time with more fervor. It threatened to break the door loose of its hinges. “Hey, Alfyn, I’m going to bust this door down and come in anyway if you don’t give me a response within the next minute.” He heard Ophilia let out a small gasp followed by a noise of dissent.

“Therion, the innkeeper will be upset with us if we break the door! We don’t have the finances to pay for such a cost! Besides, Prim is right. It’s best if we wait until Alf is ready to open up to us.” Another noise of dissent from the familiar voice; this time, it bordered on frustration.

“I don’t think so, Ophilia. Something in my heart tells me that this has to be now.” His knocks were persistent, causing Alfyn to finally speak in a hollow and raspy voice.

“...Please don’t come in.” Therion clucked his tongue and gave a hum.

“Well! He’s definitely in there! Good morning, Alfyn! If that’s the case…” The door opened behind him, causing Alfyn to lift himself from his position and face the man in purple that entered the room unexpectedly, “I’ll be back out within a few minutes. Why don’t you two help H’aanit with her traps? Or work at those baskets you two are so intent to finish?”

“Therion!” Ophilia mustered out, but Therion had already shut the door behind them and waltzed over to Alfyn’s bedside. Alfyn brought himself to a sitting position on the bed, but pulled his knees close to his chest and the blanket over most of his form, trying to curl away into himself. Therion did not hesitate to sit next to him and pull the covers off of his body, eye locking with his own.

“...You didn’t listen,” Alfyn muttered, breaking the gaze to stare at the patterns on the blanket. Therion gave a huff and leaned closer to him.

“I never do, but you knew that. Listen,” His brow furrowed and his hands clasped together as they had done in the Black Market, “you need to talk with Tressa.”

“...what about Tress?”

“She’s been just like you: keeping to herself and in her room for the past three days.” His gaze was unbending on Alfyn’s form, decrypting every part of him using his fantastic deductive skills he garnered from his long career. “Normally when she’s upset, she turns to you. But not only are you keeping to yourself, she’s terrified to see you. You know that if someone’s turning to me for advice, something’s not right."

“...she knows you have a good heart.”

“Don’t change the subject to me. Are you going to talk to her?” Alfyn shook his head softly.

“If she’s terrified of me, what’s t’point?”

“Because she’s the closest with you out of anyone in this group. I’ve already tried to coax her into calming down, but she needs to hear it from you. She just wants to make sure that you’re okay.” His feet shuffled, creating a sandy noise below them. “Even if you have to lie to her about it.”

“I’m not going to lie to her again. I already did it that day.” Therion was silent for a moment before he pursed his lips and experimentally placed a hand on Alfyn’s shoulders. It was warm from days spent in the sweltering sun, pickpocketing different items and necessities from merchants and customers alike.

“Are you still feeling guilty about all of that?” Alfyn slowly nodded, digging his face further into his knees and obscuring the blanket from sight. “You shouldn’t.”

“And why not? I made the situation a whole lot worse for Tress ‘nd the others. Especially for yerself. Gods, I’m surprised yer even talkin’ to me after all of that.”

“I already told you. You did the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me.”

“But I broke your trust! I stormed in without ya knowin’ and…

“And I’m _grateful_ for it. You saved my life.” Alfyn rose his watery gaze to meet Therion’s. No longer did he have the broken shards scattered in his eye but rather than same desire as before. It was ubiquitous, but nowhere near as terrifying as Darius or Gareth’s venom. “You all were going to learn the truth eventually. It was a matter of time. Isolation breeds curiosity, especially within you and the professor.” He took a breath before continuing. “That instance made me realize something: as much as my past has scarred me -- figuratively and literally -- I can’t bear it alone. _You_ made me realize that. _You_ broke a part of my shell. _You gained my trust._ ” Alfyn’s jaw was slack, unsure of what to say or do. His eyes released unshed tears to freely fall down his face, but Therion was quick to use his spare thumb and wipe them aside. “Oh, jeez. I’ve made you cry. That was not my intent, sorry. Still...not great with this comforting thing.” Alfyn sniffled.

“I just...I expected ya to be mad with me. I-I’m sorry. I really am a mess.”

“Don’t...apologize. Just...promise me you’ll go back to being your cheerful self. The one that brings light to everyone and everything in its path. The one that’s just so damn good to me, even though I’ve pushed it away for so long and tried to cover myself in darkness from.” His lips curled upward; the first genuine smile that Alfyn had ever received from him. “And that you will talk to Tressa. Give her the same cheerful, reassuring treatment that you gave me. So that she may open up to you and share her worries; feel better about herself for the future.” He nodded, albeit weakly and without a word. His tears were still an unstoppable river from his eyes, causing Therion’s brow to furrow and his cheeks to flush a strange shade of pink. “Primrose was right. You are an emotional wreck. How am I supposed to fix that?

“You don’t hafta, Therion. You’ve done more than enough fer me. I know that givin’ people solace doesn’t make ya comfortable.” He shook his head.

“No, no. You’re not leaving this room until those tears are dry and that positive glint in your eye has returned. The honest one that you want to show Tressa.” He placed a finger to his chin in thought, almost resembling Cyrus for a moment. “Well, I guess I’ll have to give you something positive to hold onto. Let’s try this..."

Therion’s arms were less hesitant in wrapping around Alfyn’s shoulders and bringing him close. His head landed upon his chest, listening to a heartbeat that was slightly erratic and fumbling to do the right thing. His arms held him tight, varying between loosening and tightening his grip so as to make him comfortable in his embrace. He could hear his breathing faltering and evening out numerous times, with the occasional mutter under his breath to change something in his grasp. Alfyn was still against him, continuing to listen to his heartbeat. It was different from what he had expected it to be. Perhaps because of his isolated demeanor, he had a vision of it beating slow and collected against his chest. It made his own heart flutter. It brought a smile upon his cracked lips, breaking the overboding stigma he carried. His eyes closed and his own hands reached to overlap Therion’s. The thief flinched at the contact, his heartbeat increasing exponentially. It brought soft laughter from within Alfyn.

“H-Hey! I got a laugh out of you!” Therion exclaimed; his inflection bearing a long lost pride buried deep within his heart.

“Ya sure did.” He exhaled contentedly and leaned further against Therion. “Thank you, Therion. This is the most positive thing ya could give me.” The thief shuffled beside him for a moment before exhaling and tightening his grip. His heartbeat began to slow, creating a new and unique rhythm for Alfyn to explore.

“Uh, sure. No problem.” For the second time, Alfyn experienced Therion’s heart.

* * *

“So, I want to show you something.”

“Really? I’m honored, Therion!” Therion’s cheeks flushed over in embarrassment. It was a flattering color for the normally pale thief. He glanced around for others in the vicinity who may have noticed.

“You don’t have to say that. Just...follow me silently. Before Tress and the others catch on.” Bolderfall was an easy location to lose anyone in. With the amount of paupers and merchants lining the streets in droves to make exchanges and spread tales of former glory, Bolderfall was a settlement in the red buffs bound with fervor and on social edge. Therion slipped with ease through the masses, sliding through conversations and giving no one else attention. Yet Alfyn seemed to have trouble doing the same; his path was a wake of stumbles, frustrated yells, and countless apologies to the feet he accidentally stepped on. Once at the gate of Bolderfall, Therion shook his head and gave an exasperated sigh. “Remind me never to let you have the thief as a secondary skill.”

“I was tryin’, Therion! That’s all I can do!” Therion motioned for him to follow on a steep path lodged between numerous red boulders on the outskirts of the city. The boulders reflected long, lonely days in the sweltering heat, with nothing but the monsters for company. Different markings displayed the levels of territories between them. Therion traced them all with a finger, giving a noise every now and then of what Alfyn could only describe as nostalgia. From their path, Alfyn could see the entire property of Ravus Manor. Its roof reflected the boulders, but its architecture displayed the beauty within the rural countryside. A view from that manor would be worth the leaves it took to build it. “Ms. Cordelia seemed like a nice lady. Her butler too.” Therion scoffed.

“Please. That butler is the reason I’m doing all of this to begin with.” As they had passed through Bolderfall on the way to Therion’s next destination, he had bade the group to rest up while he attended to some business. To everyone’s surprise, he had invited Alfyn to come with him and meet the people behind his latest task. Cordelia Ravus, his client, could not have been more than Tressa’s age, yet seemed as mature as Primrose with the grace of Ophelia. Her butler, Heathcote, seemed a loyal adversary in their quest to retrieve their familial treasures from those who used them for other ill purposes. Therion did not speak as friendly as he did with Alfyn to them; he treated them as clients and nothing more. But there was a hint of his heart that peaked in how they placed faith in them. Pride that overcame him in being able to take responsibility for their benefit. He was to meet Heathcote in Northreach to retrieve the two missing stones. Rumor had it of a tyrannical reign of thieves bringing havoc to the once peaceful city, led by a sadistic ginger with a cape as large as his pride. The glint in Therion’s eye when Heathcote had explained this… “Hey. Don’t walk too far. You’ll fall, and it will hurt like hell.” Alfyn shook his head slightly, noting how Therion had stopped a distance behind him.

“Sorry. Just doin’ some thinkin’ is all.” Therion strolled up next to him, stopping just before the edge of the precipice.

“Thinking is dangerous these days. It changes people; gives them justification for some awful things in this world.” Therion sighed as a fierce breeze passed them by. From where they stood, the view was absolutely stunning. It captured the beauty of the Cliftlands; from its boulders to its canyons, and even to the ravine below them with a marvelous turquoise hue. A wide smile came upon Alfyn’s face as his eyes absorbed all he could of the view. He noted how Therion watched him through a cautious eye, observing his reaction.

“Therion, this is beautiful!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide in a big embrace of the environment around him. “I don’t think I’ve seen a place quite like it!” Therion’s eye closed as another breeze gave them a blessing. It was the shield against the unfaltering sun above the horizon. “Did ya used to visit this place often in yer line of work?”

“No. Only once.” His eye opened again, focusing on the ravine below them. The look in his eye had changed, unveiling some of the deeper emotions that Therion preferred to keep to himself. “I haven’t been back since...since Darius and I had our last argument.” Memories of that day in Wellspring resurfaced in Alfyn’s mind. How the tyrant had stood against Therion with a power only gained by walking on top of those below him. How his smile had crippled Therion and brought out some...rather unfriendly traits in Alfyn. How it had shattered everything he knew but rebuilt him all the more stronger. Darius’ words floated back and forth in his mind, from how he was surprised Therion was alive to the dark desire to see him in a deathlike state again.

“...this is where he betrayed ya?” Therion nodded, walking a few steps forward to where the rock crumbled away and was carried by the wind to the ravine below.

“We fought right here, six or seven years ago. I had failed to listen to him numerous times. I had questioned him of his motives and ideals. Yet I had tried to make everything just in his favor. Did all I could to make him happy. He was my _partner_ . I could trust him with my life; with all of my heart and soul. After everything we had done together, I...I thought I finally had someone I could call my family. My home.” Alfyn stopped next to him and peered down. It had only begun to occur to him that this was the _same ravine from the dream he had_ in Wellspring. “It wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more. He always strode to greater heights, using me as his skill to get there. He saw an opportunity to rise above his station, and he took no time in accepting it. He chose to let me down easy; brought me here and gave me as a farewell gift a dagger to my eye.” Therion sweeped away the piece of his hair that had always covered his other eye, unveiling to Alfyn and the monsters of the Cliftlands a bold dark line stretching from his forehead to his cheek. It showed its wear with time, yet remained ever so prominent upon his face.

“Therion...I’m sorry.” He shook his head, tucking the piece of hair behind his ear and turning to face Alfyn, although his gaze remained on the ravine below.

“It was enough to send me off this very precipice and below into that ravine. It shattered every bone in my body. And all Darius did was laugh as I fell. Called to me from above and wished me happy trails before disappearing from my life. The ravine saved me from death, washing my wounds and carrying me to the Riverlands. Some old apothecary found my corpse and nursed me back to health. Sent me on my way but with no direction to start in. That’s when I started to wander around aimlessly through the country and different regions, and now, here I am.” Therion closed his eye and took in a long breath. “I’m...sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I know stories like that always make you a bit jumpy.” Alfyn shook his head and took one of the thief’s hands into his own. It was still warm from pockets freshly picked and the blazing sun overhead.

“Not at all. I’m glad ya told me. Lets me understand a new part of ya than before, even though I’m surprised ya wanted t’tell me.”

“I...trust you with this information. I can be uncomfortable and awkward around you, because I know that somehow, you’ll always bring me back to myself and reassure me for a better future.” Alfyn’s heart swelled with pride knowing that he could make a difference in Therion’s life. That he could break down the mystery surrounding him and help him find his way in the world. Provide him emotions and comforts that he had long forgotten.

“I always try, and I hope t’always deliver."

"You always manage to, no matter the situation.” His eye opened, facing the ground below them. “I’m going to need it once we hit Northreach, after all. And most likely in the days leading to it.” Alfyn squeezed his hand softly. It created a strange yet wonderful little spark between them.

“I’ll be yer shoulder to lean on always. And when we reach Darius, he ain’t gonna get so lucky with a spontaneous escape trick. I’ll make sure of it.” Therion’s eyes met his and his lips curled into a soft smile. Another swell of pride rose in Alfyn. He loved when he could make Therion smile. It was nowhere near as cheerful as Tressa’s or gentle as Ophilia’s, but it was its own ray of sunshine in Alfyn’s world. He wished that he could make it happen more often than not, but he was grateful for the few times he could garner it from Therion.

“I know. Thank you. Facing Darius...doesn’t sound so bad anymore. With you by my side, holding my hand just like this and emanating your optimism on me...I think we have a good chance.” He chuckled softly. “And of course, Tress will want to come along and show her mighty skills to Darius. That should be a show.” Alfyn gave a hearty laugh to that. One more swell of pride coursed through his veins knowing how Therion tried to become closer to the group as they traveled from Wellspring. He had begun to call Tressa by her nickname, as well as refer to other members of the group by their full name rather than his deemed names for them. Cyrus replaced Bookworm while Olberic replaced Sword Dude.

“No doubt about it. And if we’re lucky, we could get Cyrus t’come and shout his lectures with his incantations! It’ll put ‘im to sleep, no doubt!”

“Darius was never one for academics, so I’m sure Cyrus will do it with much ease.” Therion’s laughter died down; its remains were carried by the wind as echoes throughout the Cliftlands. “Thank you for coming here with me. I really appreciate you listening to my troubles.”

“And thank you for lettin’ me into yer heart, Therion. It means much to me.” Therion’s cheeks began to match the boulders surrounding them, causing Alfyn to let out another laugh. “Shucks, Therion! Yer as red as the boulders! I should flatter ya more often if I wanna see ya like this!” He made a noise and buried his chin within his scarf before speaking again.

“I know this is going to sound stupid, but...can I have a hug?” His voice sounded so small and reserved, but it only made him more wonderful to Alfyn. It showed his willingness to embrace those who cared about his well being, and his strength to carry on. His arms moved from his hand around his frail shoulders and embraced him wholeheartedly.

“Ya don’t even have t’ask, Therion. I’ll always give ya one when ya want.” Therion nuzzled closer, his arms sliding around Alfyn’s waist and holding tight against the fierce breeze that passed them once more.

“As I said, it’s stupid to ask. But...thanks.” He was warm against Alfyn, sending a strange notion of butterflies to his stomach and his heart aflutter with a weird feeling. They were enigmatic symptoms indeed; Alfyn had carried them around since they had passed Clearbrook on the way to Bolderfall, and they seemed to be contagious, for Therion often exuded the same symptoms when they embraced as they did now. Alfyn buried his head deep into his neck, taking in the scent of alehouses, blood, and apples from his scarf and sighing with content. He would never get over that distinct smell, and he would never get over how much he enjoyed their little embraces, far from the eye of the group.

“Ooh, what’s this? I spot Theri and Alf hugging on the precipice!” They broke from each other immediately as chipper footsteps approached them from the passage they had taken. Tressa, in her yellow attire and adventurer’s attitude, approached them with a curious smile on her face. Alfyn brought a hand through his hair bashfully as his cheeks began to burn with as much heat as Cyrus’ Firestorm.

“Tress?! What brings ya up here?” She stopped in front of them, eyes darting between the two of them. Therion had pulled his scarf further over his chin, covering his mouth and the bridge of his nose in order to hide the crimson that washed over his cheeks. The piece of hair that covered his scar returned to its position, giving nothing away to her.

“Cyrus and the others were looking for you two. You guys just disappeared after your visit to the Ravus Household! You two, together! Of course we were suspicious and had to track you down!” She gave a wink to Therion. “Thankfully, someone taught me good thieving skills, which also gave me good observational skills, allowing me to find you two up here!” She placed her hands on her hips with pride, declaring her power to all of the Cliftlands. Therion groaned softly.

“I should never have given you lessons if you were going to use them against me, Tress.” Tressa giggled and pulled out her spear, swinging it in a manner similar to Olberic.

“That’s what you get when you cross the mighty Tressa! My power will surpass yours in thieving and in bargaining before you know it! So you better watch out, ‘cause here I come!” Alfyn watched as Therion suppressed a chuckle from Tressa’s ears, a smile showing through the scarf. She brought her spear to the ground, using it as a hiking stick and pointed at the passage. “Now, c’mon! Northreach isn’t going to reach itself! The others are waiting for us!” With a hum and a skip, Tressa frolicked back through the passage. Spare pebbles that hindered her path were kicked to the side, exemplifying her power.

Therion turned back to Alfyn, lowering his scarf to its normal position. “So much for keeping this private. At least she didn’t hear our conversation. I’ll tell her one day, but today’s not it.”

“And I bet she’ll like that very much. She loves being yer friend and rival. It puts her in a good mood; gets her good bargaining days and her confidence rarin’ for battle.” Alfyn took the thief’s hand into his own again with another squeeze. “Ready?” Therion nodded.

“When you are.” And so the two males walked down the path together, brimming with renewed strength and pride to take on whatever the world wanted to throw at them. Alfyn knew that the road ahead -- for both of their paths -- would be littered with those deeming their intentions the best in lieu of people’s happiness. But with his friends at his side -- and with Therion to keep him in check and provide him a whole new world to explore -- there was nothing that could stop the apothecary from delivering his optimism to all who wished it.

He just made sure not to go over his head about it.

**Author's Note:**

> can i just say...
> 
> *Decisive Battle II intensifies*
> 
> also this was a lot longer than it was supposed to be. whoops. 
> 
> that's it hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
